Restless Musings
by dancer4813
Summary: If only he could be spared... if any and all of them could be spared... but, the greater good... Dumbledore ponders the differences between Harry and Draco after he gives Harry the task to find Slughorn's original memory. Drabble.


"So, good luck... and good night."

"Good night sir."

Just before the study door closed, Phineas Nigellus made one of his scornful remarks.

"I can't see why the boy should be able to do it better than you, Dumbledore."

"I wouldn't expect you to, Phineas," he replied, stroking Fawkes as he gave a low, musical cry.

Phineas didn't respond, and Albus was grateful. His mind was quite full enough, without the old headmaster's ramblings. He had just given Harry the task he had thought about since looking for the ring the previous summer. He was now positive that Tom had created Horcruxes: at least six and, (Dumbledore felt a pang go through his chest at the implications if his theory, which was very likely to be correct, if it was true) possibly seven. He couldn't help but worry about the young man who had just left his office. Harry was a sixteen year old who was living a much older man's life.

Harry had lost his parents, grown up with a less-than-ideal home situation and gone through numerous trials, including the loss of his godfather only the year before. He had been loathe to place yet another burden on his shoulders, but he had already waited far too long to tell Harry the prophecy, resulting in Sirius's death.

Sighing, Dumbledore couldn't help but contrast the young Gryffindor who had just left with the Slytherin sixth year who he knew was ordered to kill him.

He had ordered Severus to watch over Draco, and wondered exactly how far the boy had come to a real plan. He worried about the boy's soul, worried that one so young would end up as cold and ruthless as his father. Draco Malfoy was branded with the Dark Mark, Albus knew, and he knew that sixteen was too young for such a difficult job as the one Voldemort would have him do.

Severus had questioned his role in his impending murder. Albus had assured him that it was for the best, but he knew his lieutenant and spy would have difficulty doing the deed. He only wished there was an easier way of carrying on.

Two boys, both the same age. One dark and one light. One an orphan and one given all her could ever want in life. One who had chosen to fight the Dark Arts from an early age and one who had instead chosen to embrace the Mark and all that it symbolised when he was only a teenager.

One boy whose relationships with his friends had only grown stronger over the years, even to the point where they would risk their lives for him, and another whose friendships were less true - more of alliances only made to strengthen familial bonds.

Dumbledore sighed as he stroked Fawkes' feathers. He wished there was some other way. He wished he could tell Harry what he needed to, wished that he could save Draco from a life stained by service to the darkest of Lords. If only he knew that the boy would have the strength to do what must be done. But he couldn't be sure. Albus remembered his younger self, as he sought ony to escape from fate. He knew Harry was ultimately a better man, but was unsure of when the right moment would be. Whether it would be a year or five.

He knew the boy would need to give himself up willingly, and that was why he would be the last. The Dark Lord would think himself as victor, but would be unsuspecting when Mr. Weasley or Miss Granger would step up to complete the task.

If only he could be spared... _But the greater good..._

Albus Dumbledore stood up suddenly, shaking his head and gripping the desk firmly. He pictured his sister's face and shook his head again, trying to pull himself together. Fawkes trilled a comforting note and slipped his feathered head underneath his master's hand, not unlike a dog.

"Perhaps you are right, Fawkes," he said shakily before pulling himself together. "It seems a good time to retire for the night."

He retired to his chamber, resigning himself to a restless night of disturbing visions accompanied by flashes of green light. After all, why would this night be any different from the others?

* * *

**So this ended up being a bit darker than I had intended, with a much more personal feel. I hadn't intended for Professor Dumbledore to seem weak, but I do hope he came across as one who might not be as strong as some would think. I hope it came across that way...**

**Also, I was watching Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince while writing this, just for a bit of emotional inspiration. I came up with three revelations: 1) Draco Malfoy's hair is platinum blonde, nearly white, yet he is on Voldemort's side, while Harry's is black and he is on the 'Light' side. 2) Harry's actually a bit darker in the sixth book than I had thought. He used Sectumsempra (albeit he didn't know what it did) on Draco, but also against the Inferi (again, without being entirely sure how it would affect them) and then, at the very end, against Snape when they were fleeing the castle. and 3) The sixth **_**movie**_** is pretty much a whole load of awkwardness with a sprinkle of sweet and sour sauce. There are way more crazily awkward moments in the sixth than in any other, but the happy moments are joyously happy and the sad moments are horribly sad. Call it the musings of an exhausted high schooler, but that was what came to me at eleven-thirty at night.**

**This was written for **_**Fanfiction, School of Imagination and Creativity; Transfiguration Assessment 2: Prompts - word: contrast**_


End file.
